Aftermath
by Crimson2006
Summary: [AR] Mello defeated Kira, and now he’s mooching off of Matt. But that’s what best friends are for, right? Or maybe there’s a better use for them...Eventually Yaoi. Matt x Mello. PLEASE read the WARNING!


**Author's Note:** Ok, so I love Matt and Mello together and so I'm writing this. I tend to have an odd sense of humor, so beware of that. Otherwise, enjoy!

**Overall warnings for this story:** Yaoi, heavy profanity, humiliation, explicit lemons, fetish, violence, angst, odd humor, OOC'ness may apply, kinky themes, innuendos, underage drinking, AR, and anything else that I might think up, so make sure you read the individual chapter warnings for more details. If you have a problem with any of these themes, then PLEASE do NOT read this story. Thanks! **This is NOT beta'd**. Please excuse any mistakes.

**Spoilers: **Yes: real names, events concerning L and Mello.

**Important:** This is AR-alternate reality, so L is still alive. Matt is younger the Mello. They're just friends at the moment, though this will eventually be Yaoi.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note, or any of the characters, themes, plot, etc. I make no money from writing this. I don't own PSP, a product of Sony.

* * *

**Aftermath**

Written By: Crimson2006

**:Chapter One: **

Waking up next to Mello was not Matt's favorite way to start the day. In fact, it was just like running out of cigarettes and then finding a box –one that had somehow managed to slip in-between the couch cushions while you were playing video games– only to discover that it too, was empty. A thread of hope that you're best friend would be there when you opened your eyes, but also the downfall in knowing that he wouldn't be staying. It had always been like that though. Their time together was rehearsed—just as their departure was expected. They'd played the scenario over a million times before. Mello would drop by unexpectedly, and they'd both annoy each other. Matt would play his video games until he fell asleep, whereas Mello would sit there and eat his chocolate until things got too boring, and then he'd snuggle up against Matt. Morning would come and their interactions would be laced with coffee, cigarettes, the newspaper, chocolate and a few foul words. They'd say their goodbyes with no more then a 'see ya' or 'fuck off' and then each went back to doing whatever it was that they were engaged with prior to the visit. It was monotonous, vexing and down right compulsive in every aspect. This morning would be no different… except for the fact, that it _was_ different. Mello had caught Kira. He'd topped Near. And now the blonde had no place to be and nothing more to accomplish.

Lying there looking up at the cracks in the ceiling, Matt couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen now. Mello would be up soon and life would go on; but it most certainly would not go back to the way it was before. It couldn't. Kira was behind bars and Near was in second place. End of story right? Obviously not, because while the rest of the world might not need Mello to save them, the blonde would obviously want something to do and Matt had the funniest sensation that he was going to be the first place winner in the 'how to make my life a living hell' sweepstakes. Yes. He didn't need to be as anti-social as Lawliet or as annoying as Near to figure that out. _Nope_. It was more then obvious that he was going to be the one that was stuck with the blonde. Not that he minded it too terribly much, but long term expose in the past had never turned out to be a good thing between the two of them. He supposed he'd just have to wait and see how things played out though. Maybe everything would be ok in the end…Or not.

Reaching over to the end table near the bed, Matt snagged a half-empty pack of smokes and the red lighter that his best friend had bought him for Christmas a few years back. Pulling out a cancer stick, he pressed the filter between his lips and struck the flint on the lighter, taking in a deep drag of air. Smoking always made him feel better, because to Matt, nicotine was heaven. It was his life next to video games and Mello. They'd once gotten into an argument about which of those three poisons the brunette loved the most. It hadn't ended well –none of their fights ever did, but that didn't stop them from having them– and to this day the question was still left unanswered. Obsession was obsession—to Matt, there was no order of conduct. He needed all three to survive for one reason or another, thus they were all essential or life was left pending. Mello had told him that was pussy answer.

Matt had been too busy playing video games at the time, to make a comeback.

Sitting there now though, he wondered about the chorological order of it all. It was still a hard choice, and Mello wouldn't certainly be first, or last. Thus the blonde –he was quite sure– would be situated in the middle. Mello probably kill him if he said that out loud, because the older boy always had to be number, no matter what it entailed. Even when they were kids, he'd always had that insane urge to be acknowledged above everyone else. At first Matt had thought that he'd leaned it from L –Lawliet was a very sore loser– but over time he came to realize that it had more to do with Mello being in the spotlight, then anything else. The events that had led each of them to the Wammy House had all been different. But Matt knew –very vaguely– that Mello's had fallen under awfully dreadful circumstances. One could speculate that perhaps _that_ was the reason the blonde held such odd mannerisms. It was hard to tell though. Mello never talked about his past, and Matt didn't think that it was his place to ask.

Taking another drag off his cigarette, the younger boy watched as the smoke swirled in the air; wavering about this way and that until it disappeared from his line of vision. Dissipating into the air around them—a silent killer that could still be tasted, yet was unseen by the eye. Momentarily, he wondered if victory was like that too. Would Mello's declaration be here today and gone tomorrow, so similar to the way that the man worked? Matt's lips twitched and he speculated the possibility, but his thoughts were broken by the embodiment of his muse.

"Don't smoke in bed," the blonde deadpanned, snagging the cigarette from between pale lips and snuffing it out against the headboard. Never once did he raise his head off of Matt's comfy shoulder, nor did he have the intention of doing so anytime soon.

"Why? You always eat in bed," followed an equally enigmatic reply. As if to stress the point, Matt lifted his free arm, moving it over so the other boy could see that it was marred with melted chocolate. "These were new sheets too. You think it'd kill you to put the goddamned bar of chocolate on the nightstand before you crawl in bed."

"I believe you have a washing machine…"

"I believe that you're a pain in the ass."

"Ah, but you like my ass, don't you?"

"Yeah, it makes good target practice for my foot."

Silence claimed the room and neither boy seemed to find the tension that was slowly rising from the undertone of the situation, to the surface, to be anymore annoying then it had previously been. Because this too, much like everything else; was planned up to a certain point. They would both fight. A moment would pass by, and then Mellow would get up with some smart-ass remark about needing a bath because he smelled like nicotine before demanding –usually very loudly– that_ someone_ fetch him a bar of chocolate. Given the fact that it was just the two them there, it was rather obvious who that other person was.

However, that routine seemed broken this morning because the allotted time passed, and Mello didn't get up. He didn't take off his clothes and promenade into the bathroom and he wasn't spitting out demands for his beloved chocolate either. It was odd. Quite unnerving and somewhat terrifying—the blonde apparently didn't want to leave and Matt didn't know if he should be happy about it or not.

After another ten minutes, the younger boy finally had enough. "What are we doing?"

"Are you that daft?"

"Don't answer my question with a question, Mello." It unnerved Matt to no end when his best friend decided to be a wise ass. Not that it was hard or anything. Matt was actually convinced that Mello had perfected the art of being a bitch.

"Why, you don't like it?"

"You're still doing it," the brunette growled.

"Doing what?" Again, there was silence, though this time the feelings in the air were tangible and they were not of the comforting variety. After several long minutes, Mello finally decided to give a real answer. "I'm going to stay here for a while. "And then just like that, Matt felt the blonde's body pull away from his own. For a moment the younger boy was started –though it was a dying sense of shock. He'd half-expected the declaration, nothing to fret over in that aspect. However, the quipped remark was not so easily dismissed in regards to permission. Mello hadn't asked, he'd simply spat out an order and assumed it would be obliged.

"I'm not one of your goonies. You can't just invite yourself to stay."

Pealing off his gloves, the blonde corrected the other's heedless mistake. "Yes you are. And of course I can." Tossing the said items on the dresser, Mello unzipped his tight leather top and worked his way out of it, the shirt falling to the floor gracelessly. Matt watched the scar on Mello's left shoulder-blade come into view, the flesh marred from the fire that had nearly cost the blonde his life. It was a large patch of tainted skin that rounded over the shoulder-knob, so that it trailed down the front half of his chest, ending a good three inches above Mello's nipple before jagging outward and back up to the collarbone. Even though the blonde was facing away from him, Matt knew the scar like the back of his hand. After all, he'd been the one that Mello had called after the explosion. The only person that would come and pick up the piece—and subsequently the older boy was the pieces. Yes. It had been Matt who had nursed the blonde back to health, who kept the bandages clean and made sure that the burns didn't get inflected. He'd also applied the pain relieving ointment and vitamin E cream three times a day in order to help minimize the scarring, though that had done very little in the end.

"You're staring at it—don't. "Mello hissed, before padding out the bedroom and into the hall, his leather adorned hips swaying sensually with each motion. A few seconds later Matt heard the bathroom door slam shut and the sound of creaking pipes indicating that Mello was taking a bath.

"Well, then maybe you should stop showing it to me…." He mumbled to the now empty room.

**……**

Matt tossed in the seventh scoop of coffee grounds into his four cup coffeemaker, slapped the lid down and clicked the on switch. Seeing as the _squatter_ was still in the bathroom; that gave him a couple of minutes to clean up the tiny one bedroom apartment that he deemed home without any added interruptions. Strangely and yet somehow expectantly, Mello had the annoying tendency to tease him about cleaning the house. The older boy had even brought him a French maid outfit for his birthday, telling him he could not_ only_ act the part, but look it too. Matt had seriously wanted to kill the blonde, but that was before he'd opened up Near's gift, a matching feather duster, and L's, a serving platter for tea and cake. Sometimes Matt wondered why he put up with their antics. Mello was somewhat under amnesty because they were best friends, but the other two? Matt wasn't quite sure why he tolerated them.

Walking around, the nineteen year old scooped up the various bottles still containing liquor –brandy, tequila, rum, and peppermint schnapps– tossing them onto the counter before going about the infuriating task of collecting empty beer cans and candy bar wrappers, and depositing them into the garbage can. Once that was done, he dusted the shelves, vacuumed the floors and turned on his stereo, the song 'Long View' from Green Day, blasting out at levels that could possibly get him evicted.

Taking a few files off the counter, he meandered through the pathway of computer cords, game systems and other expensive gear, to sit down on the broken down couch. With his laptop residing promptly in front of him, he knocked it off of idle mode and looked over the files. Be as it may, Mello might have just deemed himself head of household, but Matt knew better then to believe that the blonde would be paying the bills. Thus, unlike world famous 'gun toting, chocolate inhaling, Kira catcher' Matt still had work to do so that he could pay the bills and keep a roof over both of their heads.

'I guess since I'm the workaholic that makes Mello the _bitchy _housewife…'He mused wondering if he should buy Mello an outfit to fit _that_ role. He smirked at that thought before taking on a rather mundane expression and launching the needed computer programs for the case he was hired to complete. Most of the work he was doing now days didn't require him to be on location. It was an outcome that he was actually thankful for, considering the fact that he didn't want to leave Mello alone in his house. The blonde just had a way about making things…blow up, and Matt was quite sure that his insurance didn't cover pyromaniac-best-friends who harbored insane fetishes for big explosions and an even bigger obsession when it came to defying moral principles. It was such a shame too, because Matt really needed that kind of coverage.

Setting the papers aside, the brunette started working. His fingers tapping away at the keyboard as his eyes shifted between the files and the screen. Sometime between the first and third folder, Mello had managed to pull his pruned body out of the bathroom, and was lying on the opposite side of the couch in nothing but a white fluffy robe and matching bunny slippers. In his hand of course, was a bar of chocolate. Twenty-minutes later, the said blonde was stretched out in a reversed manner; his head resting in Matt's lap while he continued to munch away on his beloved sweets. Three pots of coffee and two hours into the making, and Mello was sprawled out behind the younger boy, their backs touching lightly as one continued to work and the other slept.

Finally, by lunch time, Matt had finished the first project and decided to take a break. Careful not to wake Mello –because heaven forbid that someone disturb his beauty sleep– the younger boy stood up and shuffled off to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee, grab a new carton of cigarettes –he'd chained smoked his way through the first carton once Mello had passed out– and snag a bite to eat.

Much to his dismay, although not really his surprise, Matt opened the refrigerator door only to find it fully stocked with chocolate bars. Opening the cupboards had also produced the same effect. Apparently his new house guest –who had only been staying there a grand total of two day's– had stocked his entire kitchen with chocolate. Absent-mindedly, he wondered when the said event had occurred and where all his real food had gone. But he figured that he'd probably been too busy playing video games to notice when it had happened and that _his_ food was most likely in a garbage truck half-way across town. It looked like he was going to have to go shopping.

Matt gave a heavy sigh and pulled out his wallet, ignoring the moth that escaped when he opened it up. Looking inside told him what he already knew—he was broke. The option of pawning something was absolutely out of the question and borrowing Mello's chocolate money was just down right suicidal. Thus he opted to go with plan 'C.' Padding down the hallway he went back into the bedroom, pealing his own clothes off with each step. Once he was naked, he sauntered over to the closet; pulling out a dark grey sweater and a pair of grunge blue jeans, thereafter, snagging a box from the top shelf. Inside was money for bills: water, rent, cell-phone, electricity, etc. He hated using it, but he needed food to work, and if couldn't work, then he couldn't make any money. Life revolved around such a bitter cycle sometimes. Taking a hundred dollars with the promise of replacing it before the phone bill was due; he put the box back and went to take a shower.

**……**

It was a nice, warm autumn day and Matt, for the briefest of moments, wondered if he was overdressed for the occasion. Most people that were out and about were wearing tee shirts and shorts. But there he was, in a thick turtleneck-like sweater, heavy blue jeans and boots. Of course Mello –who had woken up right as he was leaving and was rather persistent about coming with him– was just as fashionably-challenged, if not more so. The blonde was wearing a pair of skintight plaid pants, a silver studded belt, black platform boots and a white shirt that cutoff right at the navel and had feathers lining the hood. Around his wrist were various leather bands and cheap plastic bracelets, and between his lips was a chocolate lollipop. Needless to say, that between the two of them, they were getting a lot of weird looks. Especially since they were in the uptown shopping district and Mello had to stop and look in the window of every goddamn clothing or candy store that they passed by.

Lighting up a cigarette, Matt was just about to take a long drag when Mello yanked his hand and the cancer stick fell from his mouth. Whining in protest, he watched as some rich business man stepped on it, before he was pulled off the sidewalk and into some metropolitan store. Immediately, the sound of techno music filled his ears and he looked towards his blonde-haired companion who had let go of his hand in favor of scoping out some leather pants. Irritated –because they were supposed to be going for food, not shopping for overpriced clothing– he eyed the store with a bit of disdain. The place screamed 'high class clubbing merchandise' and he seriously hoped that Mello wasn't expecting for him to pay for anything there, because he doubted that a lousy hundred bucks would even buy a bottle of nail polish in such an uptown joint.

Looking at the counter informed him that he was right: one-hundred and twenty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents for the small bottle.

"Fresh mocha latté," a cheerful red-head asked, handing him a Styrofoam cup filled with hot liquid. Matt arched a brow and looked at 'Judy's' name tag, apparently the woman worked there.

"How much is it going to cost me?"

"Oh nothing at all," she giggled, "You're friends shopping, so it's a courtesy service."

Great, now they were probably expecting Mello to buy something. Snatching the cup, Matt mumbled his thanks and sat down near the 'fashion show runway' that was built next to the changing rooms. They'd probably be there for at least a couple of hours, and Matt was thankful that he'd had enough insight to charge the battery on his PSP before leaving the house. Pulling out the said device, he started playing an RGP and was already to level twenty-two by the time Mello called his name. Taking a sip of coffee, he looked up only to choke on the said liquid. Mello was standing there in a pair of skintight low-riding leather pants. And when Matt referred to them as low –he meant low, _low_ – probably-illegal-to-be-wearing-in-public, in fact, you-might-as-well-not-be-wearing-pants-at-all, sort of low.

"What do you think about these?" Mello asked.

"Are you sure those are pants?" the younger boy questioned incredulously. "Cause they look more like extended legwarmers with a crotch accessory." Seriously, Matt was _almost_ willing to make a bet that if Mello did a jumping-jack his dick would pop out. Almost, being the key word, because clearly the waistband on those pants looked tight enough to be cutting off the circulation to a certain area. "Are those things even comfortable?"

The blonde rolled his eyes," of course there comfortable there Italian leather." Be as it may, Matt had forgotten that one small tidbit of information when it concerned Mello and shopping: if it was Italian leather, then it was automatically comfortable; no matter how tight or outrageous the design might be.

"Well, if you want my opinion—"

"Obviously I do, because I asked you." Mello interjected.

"Fine, you look like a slut."

Mello shot a dirty-glare at his best friend and chastised himself for not bringing at least one gun with him because he seriously needed to shoot something. However, being the genius that he was, the blonde quickly formulated another plan to get back at Matt. Walking over to Judy, he asked the sale associate a quick question before sauntering right up to his best friend. "At least I'm man enough to wear them," he baited. Matt shook his head and kept on playing his game.

"There's nothing manly about those pants Mello."

"Nothing manly huh…?"

Before Matt could repeat his last remark as confirmation –because apparently Mello didn't hear him the first time– the older boy had grabbed his hand and placed it against the leather material. Looking up from his game, the younger boy's jaw dropped as he watched Mello's hand –which was currently overlapping his hand– give a gentle squeeze, and Matt's could feel his palm massaging the blonde's half-hardened erection through thin leather material.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped, trying to pull his hand away, but it was to no avail. Mello's grip was like iron.

"Does my cock not feel manly enough to you?"

"I said there was nothing manly about _the pants_, not what was in them! Stupid, give me back my hand before someone sees."

Mello smirked at the light blush that was sprinkled over the other boy's cheeks. He wondered if it was from lust or embarrassment, and if it was the latter then he wasn't satisfied. No. He wanted to humiliate Matt, not just make him feel insecure. Recalling the slut remark, Mello calculated that it was time to whip out the big guns. Clearing his throat, he moaned rather loudly. "No babe, not there…stick your hands _down_ my pants."

Every set of eyes in the store instantly fell on the two, and Matt's cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. He was going to kill Mello when they got home.

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**Author's Note:** I was going to write more, but that seemed like a good place to end the chapter. 

Anyway, thanks for reading. Reviews are always appreciated and loved.


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